Mary Lou stood waiting for me at the Library! entrance. We launched into a neat conversation about children, careers, writing in any political landscape, believing each act makes a small difference, and keeping band-aids on hand. She had co-written two books: Beginning with Babies and Tangling with Toddlers—both of which I wished I had known about a few…
Poetry for Strangers
The word: Lab
My conversation with Dave went on a long time and touched down in many places, including the difference between calling one’s workplace a studio, office, shed, or lab. The Stranger: Dave The Word: Lab The poem I wrote: I have one chair and it’s empty and it’s good. All day the day accrues. In morning I haven’t…
The word: Blue
“What is that?” a child asked, looking at the typewriter. I explained what I was doing and offered to write her a poem. She said she would like one. I asked her for a word, and her brother said, “Library’s closing. Get your books.” The child followed him—then turned around and said to me, “Blue—and…
The word: Shine
Huda, who works at the library, shared her tea with me. She told me that her children had looked at the typewriter I am using and said, “That’s the weirdest printer I’ve ever seen.” When a child brought her a broken book, she admired how well-used the book was and said, “It’s good when they…
The word: Vox
I met Jack when I was sitting at Vox Poplar typewriter, clicking out a draft of last week’s poem (the word: delicious.) Jack and I dove straight into a conversation about the intersection between writing, childhood, and fairy tales. He said: “It is easy to scare kids and easier to scare adults.” The Stranger: Jack The…
The Word: Delicious
A Vox Poplar conversation with a woman named Lori led to this poem. She was at the library with her two daughters, who told me that they like scary stories. “I don’t!” said their mother. The Stranger: Lori The Word: Delicious The poem I wrote: To be eaten by bears. To fall into the river’s hungry mouth.…
The Word: Spiritual
My website is still in the process of getting rebuilt, so please hang onto your “Spiritual” poems and your “Red” ones. Today’s poem originated from my first conversation at Vox Poplar Typewriter at the Bown Crossing Library!, where I will be typing again this Sunday from 3-5. Here I’ve tried to bring the heart of…
The Word: Red
Before the poem, News x 2: First, my website is down due to a domain switch, so please save your “Red” poems and post next week. Second, for Sept-Oct, I will be Boise’s Bown Crossing Library! Writer in Residence, which means that certain Sundays (9/16, 3-5pm is the next one) I will be at the library…
The Word: Humble
Cella filled my thermos with hot water at a café where I was working. After a summer of decadence, I’ve been trying to drink less coffee, I told her. Cella said, “Me too, mostly because I’ve got a baby due in a week and a half!” Turns out pregnancy is well hidden by aprons. She…
The Word: Happy
The day before my family flew home after a summer of adventures, we visited the Boston Science Museum, where we learned about living in space, how chicks hatch, why calories are burned the way they are, and dozens of other wonders. We played with a plastic model of the human body that worked like a…